The south passage - aftermath
by ladyblakh
Summary: Han Solo is leaving Hoth to pay of Jabba, and Leia is mad for reasons that she refuses to admit, especially to the man in question, and she reflects on the nature of her relationship with Han, on his devotion to her and on the turmoil it has caused her to fall for him, and once again having something to lose. In Part 2 we get the nerfherder's perspective.
1. Leia

Princess Leia Organa was mad – and the thought that it may be slightly unreasonable of her to be so only added to her anger and frustration. The target of her frustrations was, as so often before, Han Solo. And now, it seemed, he had just walked out of her life for good. Just like that. Yes, she knew that he had a price on his head, and she understood perfectly well that he would have to pay off Jabba the Hutt if he wanted to stay alive for much longer. Still, this sort of thing wouldn't be happening to Han if he wasn't such a… Scoundrel.

She sighed. She knew that it wasn't really fair of her to judge Han. She may have grown up privileged in every way, but she wasn't oblivious to the hard facts of life and that people had to find one way or another to survive, and that many didn't have any other option than to do so outside of the law. Not that she knew what options Han had had in life. She hardly knew anything about his past, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to know – but surely there were better options than to work for a Hutt. Then again, Han was after the big money – which did nothing to explain why he'd been sticking with the rebel alliance for the last three years.

She had come to believe that he had finally decided to stay, and that he was in this for the long run – and now, when he had decided that he had to leave, he had not said a word about it to her first. He had gone straight to general Rieeken to simply announce his departure, while she had been forced to overhear it. He had turned to her to say goodbye, just like that. What the hell was she supposed to do in a situation like that? Wish him a happy journey and give him a big smile? A _kiss_? If he was mad at him for not giving him a warm farewell, he was obviously an idiot.

And she was mad at him for trying to pry some sort of confession out of her, to make her show him some sort of affection. Just who the hell did he think he was, talking to her like that? Did he really think that he would be able to make her tell him that she was going to miss him, to make her ask him to stay because _she_ needed him? Fat chance. Not if he was acting like that – like she owed him something. Like he had the right to be mad at her for not being willing to say what he wanted to hear.

She had never given him any reason to believe that she was interested in him in _that_ way – or at least she hoped that was the case. She would never admit to anyone that she was attracted to Han Solo – especially not to him. He knew bloody well that he was handsome, and his ego was certainly already big enough as it was. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She could imagine how smug he would look if he knew what went on inside her head…

Still, he had somehow gotten the idea that she felt something for him, and he had seemed quite sure of himself. Or maybe he had just taken a chance, trying to get a reaction from her, a clue to what she felt. Maybe he had decided to finally try to find out if there was anything there, before he left. But why would he do that if he wasn't planning on coming back? It didn't make any sense. If she would give him reason to believe that there could be something between them, would he want to come back? She swore under her breath, cursing all these jumbled thoughts that didn't lead anywhere. To think that she would be obsessing over a _man_ …

 _You want me to stay because of the way you feel about me._

That was a very curious choice of words. His voice had been filled with frustration, far from his usual casual and flippant attitude. Out of the blue, he had tried to make her confess that she had feelings for him, and suddenly it all seemed so serious. He had always been flirtatious with her, in a playful, jokingly sort of way – which was actually quite fun. It was fine if he was attracted to her, and after all there weren't many women on this base. As long as he wasn't going to be _inappropriat_ e. But he had never showed any signs that it was more to it than that.

She didn't know what to make of it. He was always so damn casual around her and seemed so sure of himself – but who knew what went on under the surface? She wasn't the only one who was an expert at keeping up a façade. Although, sometimes you could read him like an open book – the way he clenched his jaw and tightened his lips when he was angry, the way he raised his eyebrows and gave a lopsided grin when he was mocking, and the way he wrinkled his eyebrows and parted his lips when he was confused – which made him look really cute.

She couldn't know how he really felt, but there was no denying that he cared deeply about her. His actions spoke louder than any words could. Like at the core of Seymarti V, when she had nearly lost her life being thrown over the edge to the grate, saved by Scarlet Hark from falling down to the core. She remembered how Han had looked at her afterwards, how he had tried to sound casual when speaking to her, but he had been unable to hide what he felt. There had been fear in his eyes – fear that she had been lost forever, and relief and immense gratitude that she was still alive. And then, when a mass of stormtroopers had burst in and opened fire at them, he had thrown her to the ground and covered her body with his own to shield her from the blasts. His first instinct, it seemed, had been to protect her until his dying breath.

He'd left little room for her to doubt his devotion, even if it was sometimes easy to forget with the ironic and flippant attitude they usually maintained between each other. He kept insisting on calling her _your worship_ , not because he didn't respect her, but, she figured, because he needed to remind her – or himself, for that matter – that she wasn't his boss. Because usually, he did what she told him to do. And however irritating it was when he was calling her sweetheart, she had never really felt that he was trying to push her down. He challenged her, and he knew that she could take it.

He had a hot temper, just like her, and because they were equally strong minded and stubborn it wasn't so strange that they sometimes clashed like a couple of lightsabers, sending sparks all over the place. They never grew tired of taking shots at each other, but there were also those moments when he was genuinely nice to her, without a trace of irony or even humour. And when he was, when he looked at her with concern and sympathy in his eyes, she didn't know what to do with herself, somehow afraid that he could see right through her.

There was just something about him. Or a lot of things, to be exact. There was that indomitable life force, that devil may care attitude that made him face every danger with a grin on his face. There was something irresistible about his willingness to throw himself out into chaos, ready to defy overwhelming odds. He was a survivor, and perhaps he was the most alive person she had ever met. There was also the fact that he was gorgeous, with his dark hazel eyes with an intense gaze that made her knees weak, his smile that had probably made girls fall for him all the way from the Core to the Outer Rim, and his deep, murmuring voice that was so damn arousing, but also comforting to listen to. She even liked the things that also drove her crazy – his cocky attitude, his lack of patience, and the fact that he was a wise ass.

But after all, attraction was irrelevant. It was not important what she may feel about this ruggedly handsome smuggler in tight pants and a shirt that was open way too low down in the neck, his gunbelt casually worn around his narrow hips. She had more important things to think about, and her life was complicated enough as it was. She wouldn't mess things up for the chance to run her hands through Han Solo's thick hair as she kissed him and… No, it was not important.

At first, she had not thought much about it. It was hardly strange that she would enjoy the view as Han Solo walked past with his usual swagger – but as time went by she had started to realise that she had come to think way too much about him, in ways that she would never share with anybody. Then he had started appearing in her dreams. Nowadays, Han Solo lived rent free inside her head, and most of the time he didn't bother putting on too much clothes. This was something new for her, quite different from the innocent flings she'd had as a teenager. There may be plenty of handsome men in the galaxy, but it took more than a handsome face to be attractive. And to truly _want_ someone, that was a different thing altogether – something she had never experienced before.

But it was more than mere physical attraction. Sometimes when Han looked at her, she felt a jolt of longing in her chest, almost painful, down through the pit of her stomach. And then she wished that she could just let go of reason, of thought, of everything that was holding her back. But that was not possible. She needed to stay in control, to keep her emotions in check. She could not allow herself to be vulnerable, to want something that she might never have – or allow herself to have it, and risk getting hurt. She already had too much pain to deal with, sometimes fearing that she wouldn't be able to hold herself together under the enormous pressure she was under. She had to protect herself – but at what cost?

She felt that part of her had died with Alderaan, and in the wake of its destruction it had seemed that her hatred for Vader and the dedication to her mission was all that kept her going. She would stay alive because Vader wanted her dead. What she felt for Han made her remember that she was still alive, and very much so. It was a bittersweet feeling – it even scared her that she could feel this strongly. She had dedicated all her energy to the rebellion to stay alive, done everything to serve the cause of restoring freedom to the galaxy.

It was painful to acknowledge that she had personal needs and desires, hopes and dreams – because what could she really hope for? Could she even dare to hope for a future where she could find some kind of happiness and peace? It was hard to allow herself to dream of it when the shadow of the Empire was always there with its promise of death and destruction. It was easier when you could forget that you still had something to lose. Easier not to care whether you lived or died.

But whatever she may feel for Han, he was first and foremost her friend, and it would be better to remain that way, instead of risking making a horrible mess of it all. It didn't matter anyway, since he was leaving – did it? She should have known that he would leave, sooner or later. That was who he was. He wanted to walk free among the stars. To fall for a man like him was like begging for trouble – not that she'd had any choice in the matter. _That's why they call it falling. It's not as if you choose to jump. Or climb down a bloody ladder._

She had been forced to review her opinion about Han after she had first met him, when he had taken part in her rescue solely for the prospect of profit. Still, the enterprise had been more likely to result in his death than him making a fortune, and even from the beginning, there had been signs that there was more to him than crass self-interest. In the garbage chute, when the walls had started closing in, he had tried to help her climb the wall rather than to try and help himself, and when the walls had finally stopped moving and they realised that they were not going to die, he had pulled her into an embrace out of pure joy to still be alive.

But what had stuck with her the most were his crass words: "I'm not in it for your revolution, I'm not in it for you – I'm in it for the money!" And then, after she had thought that he was gone forever, he had returned to join in the attack on the Death Star – for no other reason than that they needed his help. Some sense of loyalty had apparently gotten the better of him and made him turn around. And for the past years, he had fought for the rebels with as much courage as anyone could ever ask for.

However, she had never believed that he would ever truly become part of the rebel alliance. He had gained her trust and proven his loyalty again and again, and no one could deny his courage – but he had always been his own. He was never going to be an idealist – that much was clear. He was capable of great loyalty to people, not of serving a cause. The thirst for freedom was certainly something that he could understand, even if his idea of freedom was quite different from hers. He wanted to live life on his own terms, and not even the Empire could stop him from doing just that. He did not want to answer to anyone or obey any authority, which made his affiliation with the rebel alliance complicated, to say the least. He didn't like to be bossed around – which was one of the reason they clashed.

And now, just when she had come to believe that he would actually stay, he had come to announce that he was leaving. And she did not even know if she had the right to be angry. He was an idiot for not giving her any warning, but when he had turned to her to say goodbye, there had been an almost shy look in his eyes, as if he was anticipating what she was going to say. He must have sensed her coldness in the one word she uttered, and he had stormed away in anger. But what was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say? Why did he have to make everything so… Impossible?

A part of her felt that she should let him go, and then forget about him and get on with her life. Perhaps that would be for the best. It would be easier to forget – but her heart rebelled against the thought. How could it be for the best to let go of someone she cared so much about? It was her fear that spoke to her, her frustration over the fact that she didn't know how to deal with her feelings – and she had taken it out on Han, even if it wasn't exactly his fault that he was the object of her desires. The irrationality of it all made her even more frustrated and mad. She felt stuck.

She couldn't let her anger and her pride get the better of her, but the thought of going to Han and try to talk to him seemed impossible. What would she say? Most likely, she would just end up making things worse. The easiest would be to do nothing – but that meant letting him go. But if she didn't go to him now, she might very well never see him again. Well, he would probably need some time to make that beloved tin can of his ready for take-off. And surely he wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to Luke? She wondered if he had come back yet. Han had said that he was going to go to check on a meteorite.

She lifted her right arm and activated her comlink, dialed Luke's code and then spoke into the transmitter.

"Luke? This is Leia. Luke, do you copy?"

There was no answer.

"Luke – do you copy?"

There was only silence.


	2. Han

Han Solo cursed loudly as the Harris wrench slipped out of his grip and fell to the floor of the hangar bay with a loud clang. He cursed again and kicked angrily at the hull of the Falcon, but the real source of his frustration wasn't his beloved starship, but rather the last princess of Alderaan. How could he have been so stupid as to think that there was something there between him and Leia? _Well, can't blame a guy for trying…_ he thought to himself and grimaced. But, truth be told, he was just as confused as ever. He had just thought that he had to go for it, to try to find out if there was something there before he left. He'd had nothing to lose, so to speak – except for his dignity, perhaps. He had thought that he would at least be given some clue to what Leia felt when he came to say goodbye to her, but he had been sorely mistaken.

True – he hadn't really given her a chance to say much before storming off, but her eyes had said enough as she had looked at him with a gaze that was colder than the ice that surrounded them, without a hint of sentiment as he had announced that he was leaving. There had been some kind of defiance in Leia's eyes, a challenge, as if she wanted to make clear that she really didn't give a damn. And yet _she_ had followed _him_ , catching up with him as he had reached the south passage. She had practically asked him to stay – because the rebel alliance could use his help. That was when he had gotten really mad. He wasn't interested in being just another pawn in this galactic civil war – and he knew that he meant more to her than that. But trying to push Leia into admitting it had been a really bad idea. Now he had just made her mad. _Well, that makes two of us._

Didn't she at least owe him some sort of respect and acknowledgement? But she wouldn't let herself admit that she even liked him – not even when he was about to leave this godforsaken planet and maybe never coming back. And that was what drove him mad – that she refused to acknowledge that he meant anything to her at all. Would it be so hard to say it? To say _something_? But it seemed as if they couldn't really talk to each other without irony or sarcasm, and any compliment needed to be securely wrapped inside an insult. Sure, he had always enjoyed their verbal sparring matches, but now he had come to a point where he was sick to death of games. But really, how could he ask for her to be honest when he couldn't be so himself? Even so, she must have understood. He might as well have said _I want to stay because of the way I feel about you._ Or was it really that hard for her to comprehend?

He still didn't know what to believe. There was of course the possibility that Leia wasn't the slightest bit interested in him, and he would believe it if she just told him straight up, as it was, without insulting him or shouting at him. There was also the possibility that she was crazy about him, but refused to admit it. There could be at least some logic to that thought. Because really – she wouldn't want to fall for someone like him, and that thought made him want to drown a bottle of Corellian whiskey and pick a fight with a Tusken raider. He hated to admit that he cared so much about what Leia thought about him, that he was obsessing over her, but there was no denying it. And now he had humiliated himself by putting himself out there, acting all needy, and accomplished nothing more than to make Leia mad. Great. Talk about a splendid farewell.

All right – he understood if she was mad about the way he had given her the news. He should have told her first. When they were alone. But really, he doubted that it would have made much difference. She was obviously angry at him because he was leaving, but she knew bloody well that there was a price on his head, and that there were swarms of bounty hunters who would be happy to collect that price by bringing him to Jabba the Hutt – dead or alive. And to be brought there alive was bound to be much worse than the alternative. But it was also about _her_. About what had happened at Ord Mantell, when she had come in harm's way because of _him_. She was hunted by the Empire herself, and that was enough, without her getting into trouble because of him as well. But now she was angry with him, and even though she wanted him to stay it seemed that she wasn't even capable of saying anything nice to him at all. _After everything I have done for her…_ he thought. Yes, for her. It had made him very uneasy when he had first come to realise how much he was prepared to do for her, to realise that his motivations in this whole enterprise weren't as simple as he had thought.

It was Luke and Leia who had made him come back in the first place. It was the thought of them that had made him turn around and head towards the Death Star. He could be loyal to people, not to an abstract cause. Not that the cause had been very abstract there and then. It had been a question of survival, of taking out the enemy or be wiped out. But that had been none of his business, really. Not his fight. Luke had tried to guilt trip him into staying, but he hadn't been interested in joining a suicide mission when he'd had the option to just get the hell out of there, to make the jump to hyperspace and live to see another day. Luke had been young, idealistic and unafraid, more than willing to do his part to save the day. Leia had brought hope to the rebels by delivering the data that could give them a chance to survive. After doing her part, all she had been able to do was to stand in the eye of the storm, watching the attack progress and wait for victory – or death. Had the attack failed, she would have died there, and shared the fate of her people – the people of Alderaan. Gone in the blink of an eye, reduced to dust. And everything would have been in vain.

He couldn't really grasp what it was like to lose everything – your world, your people. He had never had a real home, a world where he belonged. The closest thing he'd ever had to that was Nar Shadda – the smuggler's moon. The Empire had once waged war upon it, determined to wipe out all sentinent beings who inhabited the place – but back then it hadn't been that simple. He had fought to defend Nar Shadda from extinction, even though he could have left it all behind and let the Empire blow the place to hell. But there had been many who hadn't been able to do that, who had been stuck there with nowhere else to go, helpless against the invaders. So, he had stayed to fight. Because, he did have a conscience – even if he didn't like when he was forced to use it, because it usually meant risking your neck without any prospects of profit. Chewie had reminded him of that battle as they had left Yavin IV, and eventually been able to convince him to turn around – to fight.

Circumstances that were partly beyond his control had kept him with the alliance. He had decided to stick around for a while, not having anything better to do. He owed Jabba money and bounty hunters were on his tail, and back on Nar Shadda he had been branded a traitor after Bria had screwed him over after the liberation of Ylesia. So, working for the rebels for a while had seemed like an idea as good as any. He wouldn't even have been here if it hadn't been for that fateful deal in Mos Eisley that had led him right into the depths of the Death Star. As so often before in his line of work, he had gotten much more than he had bargained for. When the Falcon had come out of hyperspace at the coordinates of Alderaan only to end up in an asteroid field, he had not known what to believe. When the old man had said that the planet must have been destroyed, it had seemed absurd at first, but he had been forced to realise that there could be no other explanation. At first, he had just been shocked by the fact that the Empire was technically capable of something like that. But then he'd had to start worrying about the fact that his ship had been caught in a tractor beam. So much for an easy job…

When Luke had told him about a princess, he had not known what to except – but he sure as hell hadn't expected someone like Leia, this girl who had grabbed a blaster and started gunning down bucket heads as soon as she had gotten out of her cell. The way she had thought that she could just order him around had made his blood boil, and also she had insulted both his best friend and his ship in a matter of minutes. They had clashed immediately – the unwilling hero and the princess who had been very unimpressed with the plan for her rescue. He had been rather pissed about the whole situation, to put it mildly. Then again, he was used to things not going as expected. Many times he'd found himself dragged into crazy shit although the job had seemed simple enough, and this time he'd ended up with a droid carrying the plans to a secret Imperial superweapon onboard his ship, plus a rebel princess who had been sentenced to death. _But hey, that's what you get with a no questions asked deal._

 _I'm beginning to like her, or I'm going to kill her!_ She had made quite an impression on him, to say the least. It wasn't until after the rescue, when they had made the jump to hyperspace, that he had come to learn that Leia was the princess of Alderaan – the planet that had just been blown to pieces. It wasn't as if he could be totally unaffected by that fact. After all, they had just fought for their lives together. _You'll find a way to blow it up. There's always a way to do that,_ he had said – and she had actually given him a smile. It had been very hard not to notice that she had made quite an impression on Luke as well. He had messed a bit with the kid just for the fun of it, pretending that he was interested in Leia too. _Do you think a princess and a guy like me…?_ A joke – but not anymore. Now, the thought of this particular princess wanting nothing to do with a guy like him made him miserable.

 _Ice princess_ , some called her – and they could all go to hell as far as he was concerned. Sure she could be icy, he knew that better than anyone, but beneath that controlled surface she harboured enough heat to melt away all the ice of this planet. He just wished that he could get to see that fire demonstrated in other ways than anger or idealistic passion for her cause. The thought of what it would be like to kiss her and feel her return the kiss with fervour, to feel her press her body close to him with abandon and to hear her moan as his hands found their way inside her shirt… _Damn._ The knowledge that something like that would most probably never happen made him want to smash his fist into a wall. Even if by any chance Leia wanted him like that, she would probably never allow herself to act on it – or even admit it. She drew him crazy, and he couldn't quite understand how she could have this effect on him. She was beautiful of course, but that wasn't enough reason to lose his head, or to make him agonize over her rejection. Sure, it was never fun to be turned down by a beautiful woman, but it didn't really _matter_. Better luck next time. If it had only been a matter of attraction, he would have had no second thoughts about leaving this planet. Hell, he probably would have left a long time ago…

He had tried to tell himself that it was nothing, that it was just the fact that she happened to be beautiful, strong, smart and sassy and that it was hardly unusual for him to be drawn to women like that, although this particular woman happened to be a princess. But he had been forced to realise that this was something more – that he wanted her in a way that he hadn't wanted anyone in the last decade. _I'm too old for this sort of thing_ he thought to himself. Well, it wasn't so much about age as about experience. He knew what it was like to care too much about someone and be dumped like a piece of garbage, and during the years he'd harboured no desire to once again fall helplessly like a sedated traladon. Better to just have fun while it lasted, no strings attached, and leave the yearning and pining to the young and stupid. But now, it was clear that he didn't really have a choice. If the right woman came along, you didn't stand a chance, whether you liked it or not. He sure as hell didn't want this – but he wanted _her_. He felt as if he had been caught in a tractor beam, and he didn't know if he would be able to pull himself free – or if he even wanted to. _For being such a small person, she sure as hell has a strong gravitational field_ he thought to himself.

The strength of her presence and her commanding voice made it easy to forget how petite she was. Some revered her simply because she was royalty, but there were many who couldn't care less about that, and who trusted her and were loyal to her because she had earned it, because they knew that she was capable – not because of a title that didn't really carry any meaning anymore. After she had escaped the clutches of the Empire and completed the mission that had led to the destruction of the Death Star, an enormous bounty had been put on her head. The rebel generals had insisted that she would stay away from any action, wanting nothing more than to keep her safe – but to do what? To be a figurehead, a shining symbol of the rebellion? Han wondered how she could possibly have moved on without being given a task to fulfil, a purpose and an active role to play in the rebellion – with nothing else to do than to grieve. She had wanted nothing more than to serve her people, which the Empire had decided to hunt down wherever they may still be. Against all orders, she had taken it upon herself to find the Alderaanians who lived in exile and to bring them to safety. She had put herself in the middle of the action, and fought to take a place for herself when no one had wanted to give it to her.

Whatever she may think, he admired her for what she was trying to achieve. During the years he had known her, he'd come to understand a lot about her motivations and outlook on her part in this galactic civil war. She wasn't some naïve idealist who saw the struggle for freedom in some rosy, romantic light and believed that good must triumph over evil in the end. Maybe she had believed it once, before she had truly learned what the Empire was capable of. She knew what she was up against, and that the odds weren't in her favour. She knew the crass reality of war, but she struggled not to let it change her. Once, she had decided that she had to fight, that the price had to be paid. War was a necessary evil. She hated the Empire, he had no doubt about that, but she would not give in to hate and the lust for vengeance. She would hold on to what was right, even if she was sometimes forced to make impossible choices. At Seymarti V, she'd had the power to stop the war within her grasp – but been forced to realise that no one could be trusted with that kind of total power. He did not doubt that the choice she had made still haunted her, even if she knew that it had been the right one.

Still, there was something unsettling about her absolute believe in her cause. It was the thought that this rebellion was all that she had left, that it was all that mattered. Maybe she felt that she had nothing left to lose. He did not doubt that she would be willing to give her life to defeat the Empire, if she thought that it was necessary – if giving her life would give so much more to countless others. It would not be so strange, considering that the Empire had destroyed her whole world, all in a matter of seconds. He wouldn't know what that was like. He wouldn't know how to talk about it either. But it was not hard to understand that it had devastated her. She always held herself together, but he wondered how she was really holding up, what went on underneath the surface. Only in rare moments he got to see glimpses of her pain.

The encounter with the _Aegis_ and everything that had followed had given him some understanding of what she dealt with. Only a shard of the people of Alderaan had survived – and she felt responsible for each one of them and wanted to do everything she could to give them a future. She fought on, to bring down the Empire – but what was left for her? She was stronger than anyone he had ever known, and she would survive – but she deserved so much more than that. Sometimes, when he looked at her and saw how tired she was, how heavily her worries lay upon her, he felt this strong urge to just take her into his arms and hold her real close. He wished that it could be as simple as that. Yes, she could use a good kiss. Or a drink. Just something else than this dreary war. Or else she might just burn out.

Bitterly, his thoughts went to the women from his past who had dedicated their lives to fighting the Empire. Bria, who had left him shattered and joined the rebel cause. She had dedicated her life to freeing slaves and fighting the Empire, and she had died a hero. She had finally found a higher ideal to fight for, but had she ever found herself? Maybe she had never been able to live just for herself, too lost to know what she truly wanted. Hell did he know. Xaverri had fought the Empire in her own way, and had lived only for vengeance. She had feared nothing, because she'd had nothing to lose. She would not allow herself to truly care for anyone again, not after the death of her husband and children. He'd used to wonder if Leia felt the same way – that she didn't value her own life, and that everything that still mattered to her was fighting the Empire. He'd had this urge to see beyond her façade, to see that she was human after all, that there was more to her than a princess and a rebel leader, her duties weighing heavily on her – because he cared about her, much more than he was comfortable to admit. He treasured those moments when she let her guard down, when she let her personality shine through her controlled façade.

He used to think that anyone who tried to go up against the Empire was crazy, that the only outcome would be to be crushed under the heel of their total power. But he just couldn't see it like that anymore. Yes, the odds were stacked against the rebel alliance. The destruction of the Death Star had been a great victory, but in the end it had only assured the very survival of the alliance. A true victory was far away – maybe impossible. But he could not allow himself to believe that. He had to believe in victory, simply because he couldn't stand the thought of Leia failing in her cause, and that there would be no bright future for her. If the alliance failed, she would spend her life on the run, hiding in the void of space. Or the Empire would finally capture her again and execute her – and that was a thought that he couldn't stand. Sure, he knew that he was often a pain in the ass, but he wanted only good things for her, wanted her to be happy. He may not be the right man for that, but he loved to make her laugh and tried his best to achieve it, even if it meant telling the most stupid stories about various combinations of sentinents walking into a bar, or dropping terrible puns. Or instigating a snowball fight, for that matter.

He remembered when they had come back after the attack on the Death Star, how Leia had been laughing like crazy and hugged both him and Luke. And later, when he and Luke had received their medals, she had looked perfectly radiant in her white dress, and she had smiled at him as she had put the medal around his neck. He had smiled back at her and winked, feeling a bit awkward by the whole thing, but at the same time filled with pride and joy of the kind he hadn't felt since he'd graduated from the Academy. But now, there wasn't much to smile about anymore. Right now, he felt like leaving it all behind for good – the ice and the snow, and Leia's cold blue eyes that sometimes had a way of looking at him as if he was a piece of filth. Deep down he feared that Leia still on some level thought of him as some sort of lowlife, someone who was so unworthy that she'd rather kiss a wookie. Better to just take off and return to where he belonged – among the rest of the lowlifes of the galaxy.

Truth be told, she probably deserved someone better. Or, to put it another way, someone who wasn't a smuggler and a gambler, who didn't have a price on his head and who hadn't slept with more women than he could remember. Well, he could remember, but it wasn't as if he'd been keeping a list. Not that she knew anything about that, but he figured that she could guess what kind of life he had led so far and that it didn't exactly help his case. But he was sick and tired of caring about Leia's opinion of him. Maybe she would be glad to be rid of him, after all. He shook his head and muttered an oath under his breath. What the hell did he know? Well, if she wanted him to come back, she only had to ask. Not that she would. She was way too proud and stubborn for that. And he certainly wouldn't crawl back to her to apologise… What the hell was Chewie up to now?

"Why do you take this apart now? I'm trying to get us out of here, and you pull both of these!"

"Excuse me, sir!"

 _Here's Goldenrod. Great._

"Put them back together right now!"

"Might I have a word with you, please?"

"What do you want?"

"Well, it's princess Leia, sir. She's been trying to get you on the communicator."

"I turned it off! I don't want to talk to her."

He had no idea what Leia wanted to talk to him about, but he was damn sure that she hadn't called on him to say anything nice.

"Oh. Well, princess Leia is wondering about master Luke. He hasn't come back yet. She doesn't know where he is."

"I don't know where he is" he retorted.

"Nobody knows where he is."

"What do you mean, nobody knows?"

"Well, you see…"

"Deck officer! DECK OFFICER!"


End file.
